CHAPTER V
CUTTING OUT THE HERD
"Getting ready for rain," announced the foreman, glancing up at thegathering clouds. "That will mean water for the stock, anyway."
Already the great herd was up and grazing when the cowboys reached them.But there was no time now for the animals to satisfy their appetites.They were supposed to have eaten amply since daylight.
The trail was to be taken up again and by the time the steers werebedded down at night, they should be all of fifteen miles nearer theDiamond D. Ranch for which they were headed.
The start was a matter of keen interest to the Pony Riders. To set theherd in motion, cowboys galloped along the sides of the line giving ventto their shrill, wolf-keyed yell, while others pressed forward directlyin the rear.
As soon as the cattle had gotten under way six men were detailed on eachside, and in a short time the herd was strung out over more than a mileof the trail.
Two riders known as "point men" rode well back from the leaders, and byriding forward and closing in occasionally, were able to direct thecourse of the drive.
Others, known as "swing men," rode well out from the herd, their dutybeing to see that none of the cattle dropped out or strayed away. Oncestarted, the animals required no driving.
This was a matter of considerable interest to the Pony Riders.
"Don't they ever stop to eat?" asked Tad of the foreman.
"Occasionally. When they do, we have to start them along without theirknowing we are doing so. It's a good rule to go by that you never shouldlet your herd know they are under restraint. Yet always keep them goingin the proper direction."
The trail wagon, carrying the cooking outfit and supplies, was notforgotten. Drawn by a team of four mules, the party seldom allowed it toget far away from them, and never, under ordinary circumstances, out oftheir sight. The driver walked beside the mules, while the grinning faceof Pong was always to be seen in the front end of the wagon.
He was the only member of the outfit who never seemed to mind thebroiling mid-day heat. He was riding there on this hot forenoon, neverleaving his seat until the foreman, by a gesture, indicated that theherd was soon to be halted for its noonday meal. While the cattle weregrazing, the cowboys would fall to and satisfy their own appetites.
After the cattle had finally been halted, three men were left on guardwhile the others rode back to the rear of the line. In the meantime Ponghad been preparing the dinner, which was ready almost as soon as the menhad cast aside their hats.
"When it comes to cooking for an outfit like this, a Chinaman beatsanything in the world," laughed Stallings. "At least, this Chinamandoes."
Pong was too busy to do more than grin at the compliment, even if hefully grasped the meaning of it.
The meal was nearly half-finished when the cowpunchers were startled bya volley of revolver shots accompanied by a chorus of shrill yells.
"What's up now?" demanded Ned Rector and Tad in one breath.
Every member of the outfit had sprung to his feet.
"Sounds like a stampede," flung back the foreman, making a flying leapfor his pony.
The other cowboys were up like a flash and into their saddles, utteringsharp "ki-yis" and driving in the spurs while they laid their quirtsmercilessly over the rumps of the ponies.
Tad Butler, Ned Rector and Walter Perkins were not far behind the cowmenin reaching their own ponies and leaping into their saddles.
Not so with Chunky. He only paused in his eating long enough to look hissurprise and to direct an inquiring look at the Chinaman, while theothers went dashing across the plain toward the herd.
"Allee same likee this," announced Pong, making a succession of violentgestures that Stacy did not understand.
But the boy nodded his head wisely and went on with his eating.
Out where the grazing herd had been peacefully eating its noonday mealall was now excitement and action.
Revolvers were popping, cowboys were yelling and the herd was surgingback and forth, bellowing and dashing in and out, a shifting, confusedmass of color and noise.
The boys did not know what to make of it.
"Yes; they are stampeding," decided Ned, riding alongside of Tad Butler.
"I don't believe it," answered Tad. "It looks to me as if something elsewere the trouble."
"What?"
"I don't know. It's an awful mix-up, whatever they may call it."
"Yes; see! They are fighting."
Surely enough, large numbers of the cattle seemed to be arrayed againsteach other, sending up great clouds of dust as they ran toward eachother, locked horns and engaged in desperate conflict. It was noticed,however, that the muleys kept well out of harm's way, standing alooffrom the herd and looking on ready to run at the shake of a horn intheir direction.
"Now, look there! What are they doing?" asked Walter.
"They seem to be cutting out a bunch of steers," answered Tad. "That'sfunny. I can't imagine what it is all about." Neither could ProfessorZepplin, who had ridden up at a more leisurely pace, explain to the boysthe meaning of the scene they were viewing.
"If we knew, we might turn in and help," suggested Walter.
"That's right," replied Tad. "Suppose we ride up there where the menare at work. We may find something to do. Anyway, we'll find out whatthe trouble is."
Starting up their ponies, the boys galloped up the line, keeping a safedistance from the herd as they did so, and halting only when they hadreached the trail leaders, as the cattle at the head of the line arecalled.
"What's the trouble?" shouted Ned as they came within hailing distanceof the perspiring foreman.
"Mixed herd," he called back, curtly, driving his pony into the thick ofthe fight and yelling out his orders to the men.
"I know almost as much about it as I did before," announced Ned,disgustedly. "Got any idea, Tad?"
"Yes; I have."
"For goodness sake, let's have it, then. If I don't find out what'sgoing on here, pretty soon, I shall jump into the fight in sheerdesperation."
"Mr. Stagings said it was a mixed herd. Don't you think that must meanthat a lot of cattle who don't belong there have mixed up with ours?"asked the freckle-faced boy.
"I guess that's the answer, Tad. But, if so, how can they tell one fromthe other?" wondered Walter.
"From the brands. I have learned that much about the business. Every oneof our herd is branded with a capital D in the center of a diamond. Thatis the brand of Mr. Miller's ranch--the Diamond D Ranch. Evidently theyare cutting out all that haven't that brand on."
"Hello! There's Chunky. Now, what do you suppose he is up to!" exclaimedNed.
Stacy Brown had finished his meal, mounted his pony and was now ridingtoward the herd at what was for him a reckless speed.
All at once they saw him pull his mount sharply to the left and drivestraight at a bunch of cattle that the cowboys had separated from theherd a few moments before.
The boy was too far away, the racket too loud, for their voices to reachhim in a warning shout.
Stacy, having observed the cattle straying away, and having in mind TadButler's achievement in driving back a bunch of stray steers, thought hewould do something on his own account.
"I'll show them I can drive steers as well as anybody," he told himself,bringing down the quirt about the pony's legs.
The strong-limbed little beast sprang to his work with a will. Heunderstood perfectly what was wanted of him. A few moments more, and hehad headed off the rapidly moving bunch, effectually turning theleaders, sending them on a gallop back toward the vast herd fighting andbellowing in the cloud of dust they had stirred up.
The cowboys were so fully occupied with their task that they had failedto observe Stacy Brown's action, nor would they have known anythingabout it had not Tad, yelling himself hoarse, managed to attract theattention of the foreman.
Tad pointed off to where Chunky was jumping his pony at the fleeingcattle, forcing them on with horse and quirt
.
They had almost reached the main herd before Tad succeeded in informingthe foreman.
One look was enough for Stallings.
Before he could act, however, the stray herd had once more mingled andmerged with his own. The work of the cowboys had gone for naught.
Stallings fired three shots into the air as a signal to his men to stoptheir cutting out.
"Will you young men do me a favor?" he asked.
"Certainly, Mr. Stallings," answered Tad.
"Then ride around the herd and tell the boys not to try any more cuttingout until the herd has quieted down. The dust is so thick that we can'tdo anything with the cows, anyway. You have some sense, but that's morethan I can say for your friend, Brown. Of all the idiotic--oh, what'sthe use? Tell him to mind his own business and keep half a mile awayfrom this herd for the rest of the afternoon."
"All right, sir. Where did those cattle come from?"
"I don't know, Tad. They have broken away from some nearby ranch.Probably somebody has cut a wire fence and let them out. That's theworst of the wire fence in the modern cow business. They can get throughwire without being seen. But they can't get by a cowpuncher without hisseeing them."
"How many cattle do you think have got mixed with ours?"
"I should imagine there were all of five hundred of them," answered theforeman.
Tad uttered a long-drawn whistle of astonishment.
"Will--will you ever be able to separate them?" asked Ned.
"We sure will. But it means a hot afternoon's work."
"May we help you, Mr. Stallings?" spoke up Walter.
"Yes; I shall be able to use you boys, some, I guess. It's a wonder tome that those cows didn't stampede our whole herd. Had it been night,our stock would have been spread over a dozen miles of territory by thistime. Being day, however, our herd preferred to stay and fight thenewcomers. I hope they clean up the bunch for keeps."
Pleased that they had been given a task to perform, the boys rode away,Tad and Walter going in one direction, while Ned Rector galloped off inanother, that they might reach the cowmen in the shortest possible time.
The men they found sitting on their horses awaiting orders, though theyunderstood what was in the mind of the foreman almost as well as if hehad told them by word of mouth.
They found Big-foot and Lumpy Bates expressing their opinion of themix-up in voices loud with anger. But, upon discovering the boys, thecowmen quickly checked their flow of language.
"Did you see what that--that----" bellowed Lumpy as Tad rode up to him.
"Yes; I saw it," laughed Tad.
"You think this is some kind of a joke, eh?" roared Lumpy, starting hispony toward Tad.
The boy's smile left his face and clucking to his pony he rode slowlyforward toward the angry cowpuncher, meeting the fellow's menacing eyesunflinchingly.
"Is there anything you wish to say to me, Mr. Bates?" asked the ladcalmly.
Lumpy's emotions were almost too great for speech. He controlled himselfwith an effort.
"No--only this. I--I'll forget myself some day, and clean up one of youidiotic tenderfeet."
"Perhaps you would like to begin on me, sir," said Tad steadily. "If youfeel that way I should prefer to have you do that rather than to try iton any of my companions. Stacy Brown may be indiscreet, but I'd have youunderstand he is no idiot."
"What--what----"
"You have determined to get square with us ever since we joined out withyou last night, and I knew that you and I would have to have anunderstanding before long. We might as well have it now, though there'snothing of enough consequence to have a quarrel about----"
"You threaten me?"
"Nothing of the kind, Mr. Bates. I only wish to tell you that mycompanions are the guests of this outfit, and we propose to act likegentlemen. Every other member of the outfit, not excepting the Chinaman,has given us fine treatment. You have hung back, hoping you would have achance to get us run off the trail."
The cowpuncher's fingers were opening and closing convulsively.
"You--you run into me. The whole bunch had the laugh on me and----"
"If I remember correctly, it was you who ran me down. But we'll dropthat. Will you shake hands and forget your bad temper?" asked the lad,reaching over and offering a hand to the cowboy.
For an instant the fellow glared at him, then with a snarl he jerked hispony about and drove in the rowels of the spurs.
"Lumpy's got on the grouch that won't come off," grinned Big-foot."Better keep a weather eye on the cayuse. If he gets obstreperous, justyou let me know."
"Thank you," smiled Tad. "I thought I had better say something to himbefore it went too far. I knew he meant mischief to us ever since he raninto me yesterday at San Diego."
Tad then delivered his message and rode on to the next cowpuncher.
For fully an hour the cattle surged and fought, some being killed andtrampled under foot, while others were so seriously wounded that theyhad to be shot later in the day.
After a time the battle dwindled down to individual skirmishes, with twoor three animals engaged at a time, until finally the entire herd movedoff to the fresher ground that had not been trodden upon, and begangrazing together as contentedly as if nothing had occurred to disturbthem.
All immediate danger of a stampede having passed, Stallings fired a shotas a signal for the cowmen to join him. This they did on the gallop.
After a conference, during which each man gave his opinion as to whomthe stray herd belonged to, none recognizing the brand, Stallings madeup his mind what to do.
"You will begin at the lower end and cut out as you go through the herd.Cut the newcomers to the west, which will be starting them back towardwhere they came from, wherever that may be. At the same time while wecut, we will be moving our cows north, which is the direction in whichwe want them to go."
In the meantime Stacy Brown had ridden up. He was sitting disconsolatelyon his pony near where the conference was being held, having beenroundly scored by every cowboy in the outfit.
The foreman motioned him to ride over to him.
"Young man, can you carry a message back to camp and get it straight!"
Stacy thought he could.
"Then go back and tell the heathen to pack up his belongings and comeon. There will be no more eating done in this outfit till we have cutout that new bunch. Tell the driver to be ready to move when he sees usstart. We'll get in a few miles before dark, yet, if we have good luck."
Stacy rode away full of importance to deliver the foreman's order.
Then the cutting out began. Cowboy after cowboy dashed into the herdcoming out usually with his pony pressing against the side of anunwilling steer and pushing him along in the right direction by mainforce.
And here was where the Pony Riders made themselves useful. As an animalwas cut out, the boys would ride in behind it and worry the steer alonguntil they had gotten it a safe distance to the west of the main herd.
"There's a Diamond D steer in that bunch," Tad informed one of thecowpunchers as he rushed a big, white steer out.
"Never mind; we'll trim the mixed outfit after we get more of the bunchout," answered the cowboy, riding back into the herd.
While doing the cutting out the men also drove out the few cattle thathad strayed into the herd earlier in the journey.
For three hours this grilling work had kept up, the perspiring cowboysyelling, their ponies squealing under the terrific punishment they weregetting from both riders and steers.
But in the excitement of their own work, the Pony Riders had had littletime in which to observe what the cowmen were doing.
Tad thought of a plan by which he might assist them further. So hegalloped his pony over to the edge of the main herd and waited until theforeman dashed out with two red, fighting steers, which he gave a livelystart on their way to join the mixed herd.
"Mr. Stallings, may I cut back some of the Diamond D animals in themixed herd?" he asked.
"Think you can do it, kid?"
"I can try."
"All right. Go ahead. Be careful that you don't turn back any of theother brands, though. Above all, look out for yourself."
Tad galloped back to his companions, his face flushed, the dust standingout on his blue shirt, turning it almost gray.
"Keep this herd up, fellows," he shouted. "I'm going to try my hand atcutting out."
Fortunately, the pony understood what was wanted of it, and, the momentit had located an animal which it was desired to cut out, the pony wentat the work with a will. Tad, triumphant and warm, rode out driving aDiamond D steer ahead of him, applying his quirt vigorously to theanimal's rump until he had landed it safely in the ranks of the mainherd.
Again and again had the boy ridden in among the cattle, seemingly takingno account of the narrow escapes both rider and pony were having fromthe sharp horns of the long-legged Mexican cattle.
One big, white fellow gave the lad more trouble than all the rest thathe had cut out, and when once Tad had run him out into the open theperspiration was dripping from his face.
But his battle was not yet won. The steer, for some reason best known toitself, did not wish to return to its own herd. It fought every inch ofthe way, wearing down pony and rider until they were almost exhausted.
Tad Butler's blood was up, however. He set his jaw stubbornly andplunged into the work before him.
Bob Stallings, shooting a glance in the boy's direction understood whathe had in hand, for the foreman had made the acquaintance of this samesteer himself, earlier on the drive.
The lad had worried the animal nearly to its own herd, after half anhour's struggle, when, despite all his efforts, it broke away and dashedback toward the mixed bunch.
"I'll get him if it's the last thing I ever do," vowed the boy.
A rawhide lariat hung from his saddle bow, and though he had practisedwith the rope on other occasions, he did not consider himself an expertwith it. He had watched the cowboys in their use of it and knew how theythrew a cow with the rope.
On the spur of the moment Tad decided to use the lariat.
Lifting it in his right hand and swinging the great loop high above hishead, he dashed up to the running steer, and when near enough to take acast, let go of the loop.
It fell over the horns of the white animal as neatly as a cowboy couldhave placed it there.
The coil ran out in a flash; yet quick as the boy was, he found himselfunable to take a hitch around the pommel of his saddle with the freeend.
The running steer straightened the rope and Tad shot from his saddlestill clinging desperately to the line.
The Pony Rider Boys in Texas; Or, The Veiled Riddle of the Plains Page 5